Delicate Perfection
by mondaymugs
Summary: Luna's just an ordinary doll, who was put in a display case. But after a high school boy picks her up, she's in for a real life in reality, even though but both are reluctant to realize so. Harry/Luna. Rated T for kissing and mild descriptions.


**Delicate Perfection - **Put to the Test

Luna's large blue eyes were fixed onto the gray sky, as wispy clouds floated by breezily in the wind. A small cherry red smile still lay upon her lips though she was stiff solid. Though she had an angelic grin, she longed to walk away and frown at her dull life. Plenty of bystanders had walked on, mostly in loving couples, even a snogging two who had pressed themselves against her display case, giving her a full view of a girl's backside. Luna had again been placed in front of a satin curtain, behind the thick glass to stare into space. There were many stares and comments on her attire.

Today's new view was a dashing pair of boys, both tall, and one lankier than the other. One had jet black hair with a broad chest. It looked quite muscled from some type of contact sport, possibly football*. The other, the lank one, was tall and had a prominent nose. His fiery red hair was something to look at in the crowd of dull colors. It bounced like it was fire, alive and cackling. Luna was still, as if she could ever not be. The same innocent smile was perched upon her face.

The raven-haired one, with surprisingly unruly hair that had some fitting sort of fashion, snorted and hit the other playfully. Although he soon froze solid when the freckled red one had a smug look on his face and mouthed something once more. The glass was soundproof, but transparent, and Luna could see the green eyes flicker to her cage (as she liked to dub it as). Luna had a bomb drop in her stomach, and she felt something tell her a troublesome event was about to occur. The dark-haired one was still stiff. _He could be a doll if he pleased_, Luna thought. _Though what person with evident pride would submit them to this torture? _She was bitter, but her face was still of that a doll's. The orange one jerked his head toward her direction, with a rather mischievous look. The same smug smile was evident. The dark haired one's face fell, and he looked around worriedly. He then locked his eyes with Luna's wide blue ones. She felt quite uncomfortable under his once cheerful emerald eyes. His lips pulled a frown and his eyebrows were crinkled with dislike. He then jogged rather hurriedly toward the door. The chimes above the door rung, and the glass door gently closed after a harsh push moved it.

A bomb fell it her stomach, or at least figuratively that's what it felt like. If Luna could sweat, she would. Something didn't seem just right. Harry's eyes darted towards her in a rushed way, but the clerk caught his jumbled words (in which she had heard of a name such as "Ron"), which seemed like a blur. She nodded slowly, and calmly rose from her elbow-on-counter stance and walked towards Luna. She was smiling, as if it was normal for a teenage boy to come rushing into a palace of almost-creepy like dolls. They watched your every move it seemed, and the only constant noise was the ticking of the cat-designed clock, though as if it were such a pandemonium. The sickly pink walls were dotted with rows and columns of tinier display cases, and the only view they saw were the other side of the hot pink walls, or the other decorated and exquisitely made figures. But no, Luna had to be shown off and ridiculed.

The boy was still fidgety, and Luna felt helpless when Ms. Lovegood, the silver-blonde cashier, walked towards her slowly and calmly. Luna wondered if Ms. Lovegood had noticed a glare as piercing as a bullet boring through her. The angelic doll knew for sure that the clerk was doing this for entertainment and an almost sadistic pleasure as the teenager bit his lip in order to kept from yelling long curses at her. The adult grinned smugly, but knew that being rude would lose a sale. She quickened her pace, and Luna heard a rustling of satin curtains and felt slender fingers curl around her petite waist, the warm breathing on her neck was comforting as Ms. Lovegood let her lips touch Luna's hair. A hushed two words flew into Luna's ear, and she could've tilted her head in curiosity. _Good luck?_

True, the thought about being given away was cold and stony. She had seen many other antique dolls being put into custom made boxes and being sent away with eager little girls or smiling fathers. She was the oddball of the original bunch, she was the only one who hadn't been sold. She had been put in the shop after Mr. Lovegood, Xenophilius, had skillful crafted a likeliness of Ms. Lovegood herself. They had the same wispy blue eyes, and the same white-blonde hair, and the same dainty fingers. And Luna found herself in a plastic bag, the male saying something about a hot pink box with a vibrant logo of the _Doll Palace _was too obvious. People would get suspicious, and "Ron" talking and guffawing about it nonstop.

Luna heard the jingle of silver coins falling into hand from a clammy, sweaty hand. And Luna felt like cargo being carelessly tossed around in a plane in that wretched bag. He was obviously running at full speed, for she had her nose shoved against the bottom of the bag and her hair, even though she hadn't a mirror, probably mildly tangled from the motion. A twig made a ripping sound, and Luna saw gray concrete. It was a scary sight, crack after crack flashing by. Only the distance of her arms fashioned from her body kept herself from plummeting towards the ground, her flesh-colored body parts would be sprawled on the ground.

There was a sudden stop and the bag had swung from the halt of motion. One leg was out the tear gap now, and Luna could've broken into a cold sweat if it hadn't been physically possible. Words were exchanged.

"I got it, Ron," said a cold, stony voice. It was probably the one who had purchased her. His voice seemed vengeful, though it felt as if it had a voice of kindness as well.

Then came a guffaw. It was such a fit, that a cry of anger emerged. She and the bag was still, so the boy hadn't dropped her and gone to wrestle the laughing boy.

"You seriously did it, Harry? I had thought you bailed on me!" the boy, supposedly Ron, had said between heavy chuckles. Harry had let his hand circle her waist and lifted her from the bag. Luna had finally a different view of scenery, a sight of a fiery headed boy clutching his stomach, still giggling.

"Then what am I supposed to do with this?" His voice, laced with disgust, had now turned into a pleading tone. He had rotated Luna so she was only ten centimeters away from his face. He had a void of bright emerald eyes, she now saw, from a closer distance. His lips were in a frown, almost a pout. He had very circular spectacles, put together by a thin coil of Scotch tape. His forehead had a rather peculiar birthmark, a bolt of lightning. His green bored into her blue, and it was some sort of eye stare-down. His eyes narrowed, however nearly unnoticeable, and he shoved Luna into the other's arms.

"Here you go."

"What do you mean?" Ron replied, his laughter subsiding.

"You wanted it."

"I said I wanted _you_ to have it." Harry's muscles tensed and he exhaled a tired sigh. He had tried to fool the redhead, hoping that his session of chortling had made him excuse the question lightly.

Luna felt still. Not as she always had, but as if her life depended on the boy's decision to keep her or not. She didn't want to think about her being shoved down into a trash bin, mess piling on her body increasingly. She would be off to the dump, where no one would come and retrieve her from her desolation. She shook the thought out her system and Harry's grip on her stomach increased. It was a tight bond, she would admit, and Harry seemed to ignore the fact he could crack her in half by the way things were going. "She's – no, _it's_," he said with menace, "staying in a shoe box under my bed, and tell anybody, and I'll personally see to that I curse your ass with an Unforgivable."

"Reading to much fictional books about that poor kid and his arch-enemy – Moldy-wart was it? – I see." Harry gritted his teeth in annoyance.

"Voldemort."

Luna was thrown into the same bag, and Harry hadn't paid attention to the gaping hole. In fact, he was hoping she _would_ fall out the gap and crash into pieces. Ron would frown and push the whole event aside, thinking laughing at Harry uncontrollably in front of rather attractive girls was punishment enough for humiliating him. Harry had absentmindedly told two girls they were, mostly Ron, flirting with Ron's phobia of spiders and his scrap of a tethered blanket Ron had to comfort him. He had kept it 'till he turned fifteen, only letting it go because his ex-girlfriend Hermione had a distaste to it. Ron turned sixteen March 1st, and it was early February.

-x-

A door closed, and there was a warm atmosphere, a major separation from the moderate cold weather. Instead of never-ending concrete, there was now brown carpet, and a yellowish light instead of a dull gray sky. And so Harry had shifted the bag, and Luna fell flat on her face through the tear. She would've groaned, if she wasn't inanimate. She had a stinging feel on her nose, from the carpet burn. The carpet was warm though, and Harry hurriedly stuffed her back into the bag. There was soon three other boys crowded around Harry, sprouting questions.

"What have you got there, mate?" A boy asked. Another one nodded, his brown face trying to peek in the bag Harry had held.

"Nothing," he said hastily. "Nothing Seamus, Dean." Ron had urged them away with his long freckled arms.

"Gee, give him space you pricks," he said, a smug grin planted on his freckly face. If looks could kill, Ron would have been dead, resurrected, and then killed brutally again. But inside Harry was the slightest grateful for his almost non-existent help. Harry shoved the bag into his shoe box, which was located under his bed. The boys had given up, reluctantly, to investigate was Harry had dropped. If Neville had seen it a second more than he had, would've guessed he had a doll. But, of course, a macho football-playing guy such as Harry Potter could not have such an uncharacteristic object in his possession. He left the subject alone.

And so the young lads had left for dinner, leaving Luna to blankly stare at the cover of the shoe box. She soon felt drowsy and fell asleep, though her eyes stayed wide open. And she heard a clock chime 8 o'clock.

-x-

Harry crept on his tiptoes in the night with a flashlight to check if anybody had taken a peek at his shoe box, even though everyone should had been present at the Great Hall. And what he saw was even more shocking than Ron daring him to even buy a doll. It was, in replacement of a shoe box, a girl about his age with long silvery-blond wisps of hair and a maid's dress. Her crescent-shaped eyelids, framed with defined eyelashes, now had opened to reveal a startling bright blue. Harry would've cursed, if he didn't have the risk of walking his room-mates.

_Fuck you to hell, Ron. Just fuck you._

* * *

***I've no idea whether they call it rugby or football in England.**

**I hope this wasn't too rushed, and I'm eager for reviews. I hope Luna's not Mary-Sue. I just don't like Ginny. . . She's a crybaby and tries to fake being touch by getting her ass whooped a lot in the series. She has her uses and pros, but she isn't my favorite. Now, give me your feedback, because it helps to my confidence and raises my self-esteem! :D Last thing, am I the only one who reads the Guidelines! Because there are some stuff you can't do that I see all the time, like writing music lyrics! Enough of my talking, time for you to hit that button and do some yourself.**

**Go ahead and flame me, you're just adding to my reviews. *smirk* So you might as well do it in your head.**

**.-**


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